The Replaced

That’s what he’d written. About me. About us.

The birdcage was there on the page too, with the small bird escaping from it.

And as I flipped through the book, there were others. Tyler had copied the chalk pathway he’d drawn for me—the one that had extended from his side of the road to mine, joining my house to his. Him to me. And the words he’d drawn over the top of it:

I’ll remember you always.

It was still true, I told myself.

Those memories might not be right at the surface, but they were absolutely-totally-undeniably there, waiting to be called back. The book, and what he’d scribbled inside of it, was proof of that.

I thumbed through the pages, and for the first time in forever I hardly wondered what time it was, as instead I let myself get lost in the drawings and words, and in the passages I’d read before. I let all of it dredge up the past and tried to hold on to the feelings they elicited . . . the emotions, the sensations, the memories.

I got lost in Tyler.

I barely noticed when Simon sat down beside me.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, even though we both knew he hadn’t.

I shoved the book beneath my pillow, right next to my stolen copy of Slaughterhouse-Five, not wanting to share it with him—the book itself or the meaning behind it. When I glanced at my watch, I was stunned to realize that hours had passed. Glancing around, I was even more surprised that Natty was gone. How had I lost track for so long? “What’s happening?” Simon wore a serious expression, and my stomach dropped. “Did something happen to Tyler?”

Hurt flashed behind Simon’s copper eyes, and immediately I regretted letting Tyler’s name slip past my lips. I might not understand what had happened between Simon and me, which pretty much amounted to a whole lot of nothing, at least from my vantage point, but that didn’t mean I needed to rub this whole Tyler-coming-back thing in his face. Simon had never seen things the way I had. That I wasn’t available the way he’d wanted me to be, no matter how much I’d protested. He’d made it pretty clear he wanted something between us.

“No. He’s fine.” His voice was flat. “I came to check on you.”

“Sorry,” I said. And then again, my whole body relaxing: “Really. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s gotten into me. I just . . .” I sighed because it wasn’t really a mystery what had gotten into me. It was everything. Being here at Blackwater, finding Tyler the way we had, which should have been the best thing ever except that he didn’t remember anything about us, and then learning about Simon’s history with Griffin and Thom and Willow. It was . . . a lot to take in.

Simon’s shoulders fell. “No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” His expression was pensive. “I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you.”

We were silent for a long time after that, not in a weird way, but in a comfortable way. The way I wished things could have been between us all along. This was the Simon I felt like I could confide in. Count on.

Outside, the constant shout of someone calling drills filtered into the tent.

“So, what’s with that, anyway? All the training?” I finally asked.

Simon didn’t miss a beat. “Preparation,” he said, like the answer was obvious.

But it wasn’t obvious to me. “Preparation for what?”

“For a war.”

There was no way I’d just heard him right. “Are you kidding? Griffin’s preparing for war? Who could she possibly be going to war with?”

Simon shrugged like this was no big deal, but it so completely was a big deal. “The NSA?” he said. “Maybe the world. Pretty much anyone who messes with her.”

I wasn’t even sure what to say to that. “I mean, I get the idea of preparation.” I didn’t actually use air quotes on the last word, but there was no missing my skepticism. “I’d like to stay in one piece as much as the next girl, but really? From what you’ve said, the other camps lay low, like Thom and the Silent Creek camp. Why can’t she just do that? Seems like she’s got a pretty good thing going here . . . you know, in the desert. Does she really think a bunch of buffed-up teens stand a snowball’s chance in hell against the government?”

Simon leaned closer when he asked, “You wanna know why Griffin has such a grudge against the government?” He didn’t wait for me to answer. “I guess it helps to know where she’s coming from . . . what she thinks of us. It’s pretty messed up, what happened to her.”

“Of us?” I asked hesitantly, because wasn’t that a strange way to phrase it? Griffin was like us.

Swallowing hard, Simon pushed on. “Remember when you asked me if I ever felt like a monster, knowing I had alien DNA?”

I winced. “I didn’t mean it. I was just . . . having a hard time accepting . . .” I shrugged. “You know . . . it’s weird.”

“I hear ya,” Simon said. “Weird doesn’t even begin to explain it. But the thing is, Griff never got to that point: acceptance. She doesn’t even call us hybrids, the way we do. She uses a different word: chimera. It literally means monster.”

“Monster,” I repeated numbly, feeling sick that I’d ever said that word myself.

The truth was, I felt exactly-wholly-completely identical to the same person I’d always been. If it weren’t for the fact that I knew, logically, that my body had been changed at a genetic level, I probably wouldn’t even believe it.